


you be love

by theprodigypenguin



Category: One Piece
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort, Concussions, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know what else to tag, M/M, Protectiveness, Romance, THIS IS A THING, Whump, i'm gonna be late for work yeehaw, protective ace is best ace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprodigypenguin/pseuds/theprodigypenguin
Summary: If you were heaven I would gladly take my last breath.
Relationships: Masked Deuce/Portgas D. Ace
Comments: 9
Kudos: 47





	you be love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chromi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromi/gifts).



> GUESS WHO'S NOT GOOD AT WRITING SYNOPSES FOR FICS! THIS GAL!
> 
> This was a DeuAce concept I really wanted written but I didn't know if I could write it at first, but it's Chromi's birthday today so I had the perfect excuse! It's not smut but I hope you enjoy, and I hope it makes your day a little brighter! Happy birthday and thank you for contributing to this absolutely brilliant ship with your phenomenal writing! <3
> 
> Fic title inspired by the song "You Be Love" by Avicii because I'm a dweeb.

Pirates were all the same, in Deuce’s professional opinion. They were rash, reckless and far too eager to leap into battle — even if they were already wounded. Deuce was used to it after traveling with Ace and the Spade Pirates for so long, and Whitebeard’s crew was really no different, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He  _ certainly  _ didn’t like it when he was asked to sit still and wait in the infirmary while the chaos was reining out on the deck.

Deuce couldn’t exactly blame Marco for asking him to stay put. He wasn’t what people would call a “talented combatant”. Although he’d managed to hold his own in fights before, the pirates in the New World were a lot stronger and far more ferocious than those Deuce had gotten into rumbles with before.

Frankly, Deuce thought it was pretty stupid for a rookie crew to try and attack Whitebeard’s main ship at all. Did they have a death wish? They were as stupid as Ace, but at least things ended well for the Spades.

The Yonko’s crew was filled to bursting with insanely powerful fighters, so Deuce didn’t feel any sort of fear in regards to being on deck during the fight. What if someone needed medical assistance? Sure Marco was there, but his main focus was to guard Whitebeard unless ordered to do otherwise, or unless Whitebeard decided to get up and deal with the foolish pirates by himself. He trusted his crew enough to take care of things, so he was probably just sitting and watching.

That didn’t matter though. Some of Deuce’s old crew were up there;  _ Ace  _ was out there — his friends and his captain. He wanted to be there too. He did try to sit still like he was told to do. He respected Marco, and though they’d only been official members of Whitebeard’s crew for less than a month, Deuce knew the Vice Captain only had his wellbeing in mind.

So Deuce managed to sit not so patiently for a little, squeezing his hands between his knees and bouncing his heel against the floorboards as he stared eagerly at the door. It didn’t last long. Deuce heard a loud yelp before a body slammed into the door, a splash of red spraying across the porthole window.

Deuce jumped to his feet immediately, every instinct screaming at him to get out on deck. Even if Marco nagged at him later, it didn’t matter. He grabbed one of the medical kits waiting on the tables at random before striding over to the door and yanking it open. A few of the medical staff who couldn’t fight shrieked and asked what the hell he thought he was doing. Deuce ignored them as he stepped out onto deck and shut the door behind him.

Immediately he was met with a fight as chaotic as he’d been expecting. Whitebeard was sitting in his usual place, though he was leaning forward with one arm crossing his knees, his other hand reaching out to grip the staff of his naginata. He wasn’t fighting, but he was certainly prepared to step in if he thought he needed to. It was reassuring that he hadn’t moved actually, and it did look like the crew had things covered.

Marco was standing at Whitebeard’s side with his arms folded, leaning against one leg and looking quite comfortable. It took Deuce seconds to locate Ace, zipping around the deck like a shooting star streaking across the sky, sparks flying off of him and a glowing grin on his face. He looked like he was having a blast, fighting side by side with Thatch. That made Deuce feel much better, and he liked seeing Ace working in tandem with the chef. Even before officially integrating into the crew, Ace and Thatch had gotten along, and Deuce was happy that his self deprecating captain was actually making friends on their new crew.

After confirming that Ace was uninjured — and having the time of his life — Deuce turned to the right. As he expected, someone was sitting slumped against the wall there. Saber, a swordsman from the Spade’s who’d joined Whitebeard’s crew under Thatch’s division. He was one of the people who still silently considered Ace to be his one and only captain. He had a habit of teasing Deuce over his near obsession over keeping notes in his adventure journal, which the doctor didn’t appreciate, but he was still a friend; and he was bleeding.

He was hissing through his teeth, both hands pressing over a wound in his side that was spilling scarlet. Deuce crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He almost got a blade stuck through his gut for his trouble as Saber snatched up one of the two sabers he’d dropped on the deck, stopping himself just in time and gasping.

“Deuce! What are you doing out here?!”

“Chill out, it’s not my first fight,” Deuce snapped back. “Move your hand, let me see.”

“This is different!” Saber snarled, though he lifted his other hand away so Deuce could check the injury. “These pirates are a lot stronger than what we’re used to fighting! If one of them got me then they could easily slaughter you!”

“No offense but you’re not exactly Mister Strong Man,” Deuce stated. “I think I’ll be fine. Now stop moving. You’re gonna need stitches, it’s pretty deep. How’d this happen?”

“Swords are sharp, Deuce.”

“So are scalpels, stop trying to piss me off.” Deuce reached into the kit he’d set down, pulling out a wad of gauze and pressing it against the wound in Saber’s side. “Hold this in place.”

“You’re not stitching me up out here, are you?”

“I could, but my initial plan was to drag you into the infirmary. The door’s inches away, I think you can make it if you crawl.”

“I can stand,” Saber grumbled, pressing one hand against the gauze and sheathing one of his two blades before gripping the other by its hilt until his knuckles went white. “Help me up.”

“Sure thing, your majesty.” Deuce took hold of Saber’s arm, hauling him up and pulling him so his weight rested against Deuce’s side. “Just shuffle sideways. Keep your eye out for any attacking pirates.”

As if on queue, a man came flying at them. Saber shifted his body in front of Deuce and parried away the sword before swiping his blade up. Their enemy immediately dropped his own sword to grab his face, and Deuce flinched as blood spilled between his fingers. He turned Saber to the side and lifted a leg to heel kick the unknown man in the chest, sending him sprawling against the deck with a cry.

“Nice teamwork,” Saber praised. “Please get me into the infirmary. I’m about to black out.”

“God you’re a baby,” Deuce muttered, and Saber hissed through his teeth as a form of response.

Deuce was in front of the infirmary with a hand on the doorknob when his attention was drawn back to the deck. Ace was fighting with a pirate twice his size who was wearing dangerous looking brass knuckles on his fingers. Ace was holding his own, but what had Deuce’s heart beating too fast was the second man coming up on Ace’s back.

This one was wielding a long club that was decorated with sharp barbs. At first Deuce wasn’t terribly worried, until the man heaved the weapon up and the wood surface coated in something shiny and black. 

Armament Haki.

Marco had given Deuce long, detailed verbal lessons about each Haki form and what they were capable of, as well as how to identify them. It seemed the rookie pirates had some hard hitters on their crew. With Haki coating his weapon, that man would be able to physically harm Ace, and Ace was currently distracted by the iron fisted brawler in front of him. Could he tell there was someone behind him? Could he dodge it? Fuck.

“Ace!” Deuce tried to yell for his partner over the roar of the fighting, but Ace made no move to show he’d heard. “Ace, behind you! Fuck.”

“That fuckers using Haki!” Saber gasped. “Let me go, I gotta help the captain!”

“You can’t do shit with that wound!” Deuce yelled back. “You’re not fast enough, you won’t make it in time!”

“So what do you want me to do?!”

Deuce pulled away from Saber, shoving the medical kit into his chest. “Wait here!”

“What?! You fucking idiot!”

Deuce sprinted forward, not sparing any energy on worrying about the fact he had no weapon. All he had to do was get to Ace, he’d figure out what to do when he got there. Deuce had enough experience with ship combat to easily weave his way between brawling crew mates and enemies, dodging swinging swords and just barely avoiding the flying bullets as he made a straight beeline for Ace.

The other man was getting closer, lifting the club as a demented grin split his lips to show off an uneven grin. He knew what he was doing and knew that Ace wasn’t paying attention. He must have been countering Ace's Observation Haki by using his own, in order to keep Ace from picking up on his presence. Deuce could see in the man’s eyes that his goal was to crush bones, and there was no way Deuce was going to let that happen.

“Ace,  _ move!” _ Deuce reached out, desperation boiling in his stomach and coming out in a scream.

Ace finally seemed to hear him, his shoulders tensing and his eyes going wide as he snapped his head to the side. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before Deuce flung himself the last few feet, having just enough time to place himself between Ace and the closing in enemy before he swung the club forward.

It happened so fast, Deuce doubted anyone involved realized what was happening. He certainly didn’t. Somehow it didn’t occur to him that he’d be the one injured in Ace’s place, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. Deuce didn’t even feel the pain. Something struck him in the side of the head hard enough to turn it, and his eyes focused on the horizon beyond the ship. The deep azure of the sea meeting the twilight of the sky, streaked with red, orange and purple. It was the last thing he saw before his vision went black, falling unconscious before he even hit the deck.

* * *

It wasn’t unusual to watch crew mates get hurt in the midst of battle. People got shot, stabbed and knocked unconscious all the time. That was an occupational hazard Ace accepted as a pirate. It was something they all accepted. He’d watched friends get hurt before, and yes he’d get angry — he was used to being angry too — but he’d never felt  _ this  _ kind of anger before.

The closest he could come to matching this level of fury was when Bluejam tried to kill Luffy during the Grey Terminal fire.

Ace recognized Deuce’s voice telling him to move, so he’d turned his head to locate the doctor. He was surprised to hear him, because as far as he knew Deuce was supposed to be inside, and him being on deck meant something must have happened. When he found Deuce he was running towards Ace. Ace saw pure fear consuming his friend’s face. His pale brown eyes were glossy in panic.

It happened so fast that Ace didn’t have time to comprehend why Deuce was running for him. Suddenly he was throwing himself behind Ace, who spun on his heel in alarm, fists still raised and flickering with flames that flared higher when he realized someone had been coming up behind him — the absolute coward. The fire on his arms died as Deuce disappeared from in front of him in an instant. Ace stood there frozen, wide eyed, staring at the pirate with the club.

He looked just as alarmed as Ace, their eyes locked in dual expressions of surprise before they both looked at the end of the club. The Armament reinforcement faded to reveal a thick layer of scarlet on the side of the weapon, dripping off the end of it. Ace felt his hands begin to tremble as he slowly lowered his gaze to the deck where his partner had landed.

Deuce was lying unmoving on the deck, collapsed onto his side with his hair falling over his eyes. The left side of his head — above his ear on his temple — was bleeding, the hair matted in crimson red that was a striking contrast to the blue of his hair. Ace felt lightheaded and unsteady on his feet, staring down at his companion and waiting dizzily for him to get up and dust his coat off while scolding Ace for being careless.

He didn’t. The longer he stayed lying at Ace’s feet, the shorter Ace’s breath got, until he wasn’t sure he was breathing at all.

The pirate who’d attacked Deuce regained his composure before Ace, lifting his club again with renewed energy and a cruel smile painting his face beside the spray of blood — Deuce’s blood. Ace could only stare at him, eyes still wide, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened. When the pirate swung a second time, Ace lifted his hand to stop it. Barbs that had been pounded into the wood of the club cut into Ace’s palm and fingers, but the pain only served to sharpen his focus.

He clenched his hand and shattered the club, Haki be damned.

The man looked instantly frightened, clearly not expecting Ace to counter with Haki of his own. Generally speaking Ace didn’t really know how to use Haki. He knew he had it — he’d always known — but he couldn’t control it. It just came out sometimes in the heat of battle like now. Normally when someone he cared about was in danger… 

In this case, the man before him had done the unthinkable. He’d committed a crime that Ace was incapable of forgiving him for. Ace’s blood was boiling with rage that he had no interest in suppressing, allowing the fire to rage against his skin and crawl along the deck to scorch the wood. He didn’t care. The orange flames crawled around him, forming a wall around he, Deuce, and the bastard who’d dared to strike down someone that meant so much to Ace.

“Ho-hold on!” The pirate dropped the remains of his club in favor of raising both hands, waving them frantically. “That was an accident! I didn’t mean to do that!”

Ace stepped forward, placing one foot on Deuce’s other side so he was standing protectively over the unconscious man. He let his fire race around them, knowing instinctively that he would never let the flames hurt Deuce. Rather he allowed them to blanket over the man obsessively while urging them to cover the pirate he’d set his sights on. He was taking steps back, but Ace wouldn’t let him get away that easily after what he’d done.

Ace shot his hand forward to grab the pirate by the front of his shirt, dragging him closer and lifting his right fist up. He’d never tried to meld his fire with his Haki, but it seemed like a good time to try it out. Ace coated his fist with fire, Haki and rage. All he could see in front of his eyes was Deuce lying on the deck with blood on his head. His throat felt raw from the scream as he threw a signature fire fist forward with as much force as he was capable.

He let go of the man’s shirt just before his sucker punch made contact with the bastard’s face. It was almost comical the way he flew away from Ace, spinning through the air across the deck with every piece of clothes smouldering in flames. The railing splintered under his weight when he hit it, breaking through it like a wrecking ball and falling into the ocean.

Ace hoped he drowned.

He backed up after confirming the man was dealt with, dropping to his knees beside Deuce and leaning over him to get a better look at the wound. Deuce’ face was unnaturally pale. The blood on the side of his head was already coagulated and sticky. Ace’s hand shook as he brushed back Deuce’s bangs to see his face clearly. Red was streaked across his forehead and face from the wound on his temple. Some of it was already dried black, the rest still bright scarlet and easily smeared across his skin. His eyes were screwed shut and he was clearly in discomfort.

Ace was scared to move him when he had such a bad head wound. His skull could have been cracked. Who knew what kind of concussion he’d received? Ace felt like he might pass out from how frightened he was.

This couldn’t be happening.  _ This could not be happening. _

“Wake up, Deuce, come on,” Ace begged, wrapping an arm under Deuce’s shoulders and lifting him up gently so his head was cushioned against his bicep. “Fuck, Deu, come on, please, you gotta wake up!”

“You fucking psychopath!” Ace heard a voice scream distantly, but didn’t want to look away from Deuce for even an instant. “What kind of demon are you?!”

Ace flinched at the question, stroking a hand through Deuce’s hair on the right and holding the side of his face before lifting his head. There were a number of rookie pirates closing in on him, despite the fire still burning on the deck.

Ace idly noted in passing that he would likely be reprimanded later for destroying the deck, but currently he couldn’t care less.

The other pirates were getting closer, guns and swords raised in offense. They probably wouldn’t hurt Ace much, but Deuce wasn’t made of fire like Ace was, and he was already badly injured.

“One more step,” Ace dared, speaking in a gravelly voice that had the group faltering. “Come one step closer and see what happens.”

The pirates glanced at each other hesitantly before they seemed to steady their resolve. They started in on Ace again, weapons lifted.

“We’re not afraid of some high and mighty rookie who got beaten by Whitebeard and is only alive because the old geezer decided you weren’t enough of a real threat to kill!” One of them announced, rather boldly.

Ace focused on them, their insults not registering in his ears. His eyes widened and his emotions built into his throat. All his anger, rage, guilt, and oh so potent hate. He was done having petty fist fights with these nobodies. It wasn’t fun anymore. His friend could be dying and it was these bastards fault. He wanted them to fall. He wanted the threat to  _ disappear. _

The air around him seemed to physically ripple as the energy in his body discharged in powerful waves. His body physically trembled from the force, and he watched as the entire rookie crew collapsed, unconscious. Even the pirates who weren’t trying to attack him fell over, interrupting every fight that had been taking place all across the rest of the deck.

Silence echoed for a few heartstopping moments before someone called out. “Pops what the hell?! Why’d you do that?”

“That wasn’t me,” Whitebeard confessed.

“Who the hell else on this ship uses Conqueror's Haki?!”

“They're all unconscious now. What do we do with them?”

“Throw them back on their ship,” Marco said. “Get them out of here.”

His voice was close behind Ace, who curled over Deuce, holding him tighter as his fire flared around them. Somehow the concept of letting anyone near terrified him, even though he realistically knew Marco wasn’t a threat. In fact as a doctor, he was probably the one person Ace could turn to in this situation. Yet he was still scared, and he couldn’t seem to tame the fire that was only taking fuel from his unhinged emotions.

Luckily Marco didn’t seem bothered by the searing flame. When they touched him, his own blue fire sparked to life, fending off any burns so he could kneel in front of Ace and reach out to Deuce.

“Let me see. It’s okay, I won’t hurt him. I just need to see where he’s already hurt.”

Ace lifted away from Deuce but didn’t release him, allowing Marco to hold Deuce’s face and turn his head. His blue fire blended with the color of Deuce’s hair as he checked the wound, parting his hair to see it better.

“I’m sorry! I am so sorry, Ace!” Saber was choking from a few steps away, clinging to his side and looking white from shock. “I tried to get him back inside! He wouldn’t listen to me!”

“How is he?” Thatch asked, crouching down beside Marco.

It took all of Ace’s self control not to throw a fireball into his face. He didn’t want anyone else getting close to Deuce, not when he was like this.

“Severe concussion,” Marco revealed. “It’ll be uncomfortable for him, but I’m going to repair the fractures in his skull. The abrasions on the surface will have to heal naturally. He needs a lot of rest and someone needs to be with him at all times. It was a bad hit, he’s lucky he’s still breathing.”

“Shut up and fix him!” Ace snapped, his voice shrill with alarm.

“You need to calm down before you set fire to the entire ship,” Marco chided simply, not removing his attention from Deuce. “I can fix the fractures, but too much healing can make him sick. Right now his condition is very delicate, we need to get him to the infirmary. He can use one of the private IC rooms so he can rest without foot traffic bothering him.” He looked up into Ace’s face. “Can you carry him?”

Ace nodded frantically. With Deuce securely in his arms, he finally calmed down enough that the fire around him died down, leaving only black charred wood behind. Marco kept a hand on the back of Deuce’s head as Ace stood up. Blue fire flickered along the unconscious doctor’s temple where the blood was matting his hair.

Thatch was still crouching on the deck, scratching some of the scorched planks of wood. “Nicely done, Fire Fist,” he complimented. The sarcasm in his voice was palpable, but Ace paid it no mind.

Nothing else mattered as he carried Deuce across the deck towards the infirmary, following Marco through the large room and towards a door at the very back. It was cozy, with curtains hanging on the walls and a better quality bed set up there — likely for the purpose of extended stays in the medical ward. Strange devices and equipment were set up around the bed where Marco directed Ace to put Deuce. Ace hadn’t a clue what any of them were, and he never listened when Deuce tried to explain his work — maybe he should have — but he tried not to obsess over their existence.

Ace was gentle as he laid Deuce on the mattress before moving to sit himself against the pillows and cradling Deuce’s head in his lap. The disapproval on Marco’s face did not go unnoticed, but Ace merely shot him a daring glare of his own before turning his attention back towards his partner.

“Pops will probably want to talk to you about what happened,” Marco said as he treated Deuce’s injury, carefully moving his fire along the other man’s hairline where the invisible damage was located on his skull.

“I’ll sand the entire deck down to get the scorch marks off, but it’s gonna have to wait. I don’t want to leave him.”

“I was implying to your Haki. The way you made all those pirates collapse.”

Ace went rigid, staring intently down at Deuce. “I don’t know what you mean. It just happened. It’s not a big deal.”

“You don’t know what it was?” Marco asked, clearly surprised.

Ace just shrugged his shoulders. “Why would I? It’s not important.”

“Ace that was Conqueror's Haki,” Marco revealed. “It’s the rarest form of Haki you can get. Only one in several million people have it. You can’t be trained to use it, it’s something you need to be born with.”

“So?” Ace was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, not wanting to discuss his Haki at all.

“Have you ever used it before? Did you know you had it?”

“No, I told you it just happened,” Ace said defensively. “Deuce was in danger, I just wanted to keep him safe. I don’t care how or why it happened, it just did, the end.”

Marco was silent for a bit, until he’d deemed his treatment successful and complete. His blue flames shrunk back onto his fingers before disappearing, leaving a bloody patch of hair on Deuce’s head.

“Alright,” he said. “I won't push the subject, but Pops will still probably want to ask you about it later.”

“Then I’ll tell him the same thing. Is Deuce okay?”

“I’ll clean up the blood now and bandage his head.” Marco nodded. “He just needs rest now.”

“Can I stay with him like this?”

“That should be fine,” Marco decided.

The conversation stopped then, and Ace watched closely as Marco mopped away the blood. He helped the doctor lift Deuce up a bit to wrap bandages around his head, then laid him back down into his lap.

“I’ll bring a change of clothes for him to rest in.” Marco stood straighter, cleaning his hands on a rag. “I’m sure I can trust his recovery to you?”

“I won’t let him push himself,” Ace stated, and Marco nodded.

“I’ll be back in a moment. Try not to jar his head.”

“I wouldn’t do that!”

Marco waved his hand as he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Ace took a slow breath in to calm himself down, staring at the door until he was convinced no one was going to bother them before looking back down at Deuce. He reached down and tugged at the mask, lifting it away from Deuce’s face and reaching over to set it on a side table.

In the beginning, Deuce would panic when someone saw him without the mask. He really did not like people seeing his face. It took Ace months to gain enough trust from Deuce that if he wandered in on him without the accessory, Deuce would only roll his eyes and move to replace the mask. He didn’t normally sleep with it on anyway, so he’d be fine with Ace removing it to make him more comfortable.

Ace knew how important the mask was to Deuce. He’d explained it before, with some trepidation and shame, and Ace was happy to honor his wishes to keep it on. Still, the fact Deuce trusted him enough to let him see him without the mask, see every part of him, even the parts he hated, made Ace emotional. Deuce trusted him so much to see him and protect him, and Ace intended to do just that.

When Marco returned with the change of clothes, Ace covered Deuce’s eyes with his hands, glaring at the other doctor so intensely that fire flickered to life on his shoulder. Marco held his gaze firmly, setting the clothes down before holding his hands up like he was trying to calm a wild animal.

“Calm down. I’m not looking. I know he’s testy about that mask. Do you need help getting him into clean clothes?”

The question had Ace bristling, the ends of his hair sparking.  _ “No. _ I don’t.”

“Okay,” Marco had a half grin on his lips, looking more amused than threatened. “I get it, I won’t overstep. He’s all yours.” He stopped when he was at the door, keeping his back respectfully to the bed as he spoke again. “I just wanted to remind you, you’re part of this crew now. We’re your family and we care about you — both of you. We’ve got your back. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“This is different,” Ace commented. “This is Deuce.”

“I understand, really,” Marco reassured, glancing back at Ace from over his shoulder. “It’s hard to focus and think logically when someone you love is in danger or badly hurt.” Ace flinched, fingers curling into the shoulder of Deuce’s coat, his other hand still protectively hiding his eyes. “Take whatever time you need. I’ll let pops know you’ll be indisposed for a bit.”

“Fine,” Ace murmured, watching Marco leave the room before slowly lifting the hand from over Deuce’s eyes.

He sat silently for a moment to think over what Marco had said, then shook his head and decided to move, to get Deuce into better clothes to sleep in. It wouldn’t be the first time Ace had to take care of his first mate like this. Deuce couldn’t hold his liquor to save his life, and more than once on the  _ Piece of Spadille _ Ace had to drag him into clean clothes so he could sleep comfortably in a bed rather than blacked out on the deck.

Ace was as careful as possible as he pulled off Deuce’s boots, pants and coat, replacing them with lightweight hospital pants and button down shirt that was a paler shade of blue than his hair. Ace tossed the dirty clothes on a nearby chair with Deuce’s boots before tucking him beneath the blankets. After which he laid down beside the other man, watching over him as he slept.

There was something almost forbiddenly beautiful about Deuce without his mask. Since Ace almost never saw him without the covering, it always felt like he was staring at one of the great wonders of the world. Deuce had rather bold features, soft but sharp like a precise statue carved from precious stone. Ace didn’t find it hard to believe that he was from a rich and noble family. Deuce looked like royalty, and Ace suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy. Even with bandages wound thickly around his head, he looked stunning.

Ace shut his eyes to coax his heart into slowing down, reopening them once he was calm. He reached out, dragging the backs of his fingers down Deuce’s cheek, stroking along his jaw with his thumb a few times. He repeated the motion over and over until he’d convinced himself that Deuce really would be okay. Still, he doubted he’d be able to sleep until Deuce woke up, and opted to stay firmly awake in order to look after the doctor. He could rest later. Right now taking care of his partner took precedence.

* * *

When Deuce was seven, he and his brother had been flying a paper kite out in their backyard. It had inevitably gotten caught on the high branches of a tree, so Deuce’s brother talked him into climbing up to retrieve it for them. When Deuce was halfway up, he’d stepped on a weak branch that snapped under his weight, sending him tumbling to the ground to knock his head against the earth.

After looking him over, his father had diagnosed him as just barely avoiding a concussion, though the two hours of yelling that Deuce was made to sit through afterwards certainly didn’t make it better.

Waking up now, the pain in Deuce’s head was about five hundred times worse than the tiny headache he’d received when he was a kid. It hurt so badly that he actually missed his father screaming at him for being so immature and doing something so stupid.

What if one of the neighbors had seen him acting like a reject crawling up trees like an animal; because seven year olds never climbed trees, right?

Deuce screwed his eyes tighter with a groan, lifting a hand slowly to cup his forehead in his palm. He only had a vague recollection of what had happened — something about Ace being in danger and Deuce running to help him — but the complete memory had been wiped from his mind. With a head injury this bad, Deuce wasn’t surprised he had a bit of short term memory loss.

A warm hand pressed against the side of his face, palm against cheek, and Deuce felt the muscles in his face relaxing substantially. The touch was comforting, and somehow Deuce knew it was Ace simply from the incredible heat reverberating from his fingertips. Deuce opened his eyes to find Ace was hovering over him, watching him with anxious eyes.

Deuce didn’t know if it was from his potential brain damage or what, but the other man’s eyes suddenly seemed more intense. The dark gray that often darkened to a pitch color was currently pale and sharp silver. His brow was drawn together, wrinkles of concern set deep in his face. For an instant all Deuce could focus on were the freckles painted across Ace’s cheeks. He was willing to swear he could see constellations decorating his features.

Ace’s mouth was moving, Deuce could make out his name being said and probably something along the lines of “are you okay”, but all he could hear was his blood rushing in his ears. Ace froze when Deuce lifted his hands to cup them on either side of Ace’s face, thumbs tracing the freckles there like nothing else mattered.

“Ace, what happened?” Deuce asked, and his voice sounded slurred even to him.

“Huh?” Ace looked dumbstruck. “You don’t remember? You got clubbed in the side of the head.”

“No…” Deuce shook his head, pressing his thumbs more firmly into Ace’s cheeks. “Someone put stars on your face.”

“Wha —?”

“That’s amazing,” Deuce breathed. “Did you know they were here? They’re so pretty…”

“Uh… they’re just freckles,” Ace said, then laughed anxiously; his cheeks had reddened under Deuce’s hands. “They're not that great.”

“No they’re  _ beautiful,” _ Deuce insisted, pulling Ace closer without an ounce of resistance from the latter. “They’re lovely. You’re lovely. Did you know that? Have you ever looked in a mirror?”

Ace looked completely at a loss of what to say, eyes wide and face bright red. “A—are you okay?” Ace finally managed to ask. “You got hit  _ really  _ hard.”

“Oh, yeah, I did huh?” Deuce stared blearily at Ace.

Out of nowhere his stomach was cramping and his chest was tight, barely able to get a good breath in as each one hitched in his throat. Then he was crying, tears rolling down his face, and Ace looked even more frantic than before.

“What the hell are you crying for? Are you in pain? Ah, fuck, let me go get Marco.”

Deuce curled his fingers back through Ace’s hair to cling to the back of his head, firmly keeping him in place as he cried. “Ace. Damn it. You’re so stupid. Why are you so reckless and stupid?”

“Huh?!”

“I thought you were gonna die!” Deuce sobbed. “That pirate could use Armament Haki! He could’ve crushed your skull! I was so scared!”

“Hey, hey, hey! Deu, it’s okay, what the hell!” Ace was petting a hand slowly through Deuce’s hair, the other curled around one of his wrists but not trying to pry him away.

“It’s not okay!” Deuce snapped, squeezing Ace’s cheeks between his palms. “If people use Haki then they can touch you! They can hurt you! Do you not understand that?!” He yanked on Ace’s hair and pinched his cheek, snarling his words through his tears. “What were you doing getting distracted like that, huh?! Did you just not care about that bastard coming up behind you?! You could have died!”

Ace made a disgruntled whine, though he didn’t try very hard to escape his scolding. Simply sat there awkwardly hunched over Deuce as the other man berated him.

“You’re the one who got hurt, asshole!” Ace finally said back, grumbling when Deuce pinched both his cheeks to the point where it stung.

“There wasn’t any time for you to move!” Deuce argued. “You couldn’t hear me! I had no other choice but to shield you!”

“I coulda taken that hit easy!”

“Yeah?!”

“Yeah!”

“Well you’ve got a thick enough head to have cushioned it I guess, you fucking prick!”

“I’d rather have taken it!” Ace snapped, reaching up to snatch Deuce’s wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. “I’d rather get bludgeoned in the head myself and risk skull fractures than watch you take the hit for me!” He craned himself closer to Deuce, close enough that the doctor could see silver flames flickering in Ace’s eyes. “Do you have any clue how scared I was?! You just — you just collapsed! There was  _ so much blood!” _ Ace’s eyes widened with every word he spoke, going from angry to frightened in a split second. His grip on Deuce’s wrists loosened. “There was so much blood. You weren’t moving. You were just lying there.”

Ace dropped his head against Deuce’s chest, leaving the other man to stare at the ceiling. It was alarming to realize that Ace was shaking, something warm soaking the front of Deuce’s shirt — he was crying. Had Deuce ever seen Ace cry? Had Ace ever even cried in his life? Was he really crying? He was still holding Deuce by the wrists, but his grip was loose enough that Deuce was able to slip his hands away, letting them hover above Ace’s back.

“I thought you were gonna die,” Ace admitted in a whisper, his voice choked. “I could’ve lost you, Deu. Why would you make me almost lose you?”

“I didn’t want to lose you either,” Deuce’s voice trembled. He wrapped one arm around Ace’s back, raking the fingers of his free hand up through Ace’s hair, burying his face against the crown of his head. “I just wanted to protect you.”

“I wanted to protect you too,” Ace said, words muffled against Deuce’s chest.

Deuce inhaled and shut his eyes. His head was pounding, but he felt like he could finally think clearly. The sudden rush of emotion and tears had passed, so he focused on the feeling of Ace’s hair slipping between his fingers, the other man’s bare back hot with body heat beneath his hand.

“You don’t understand,” Deuce said in a calm voice. “You’re the only reason I’m still here. What would I have done if I’d lost you? Why be a pirate if you’re not my captain?” Ace’s shivering stopped suddenly, like he’d frozen in Deuce’s arms. “You mean so much to me, I can’t even express it — and I’m supposed to be a writer.” Deuce smiled ruefully, pressing his cheek against Ace’s head. “And you have no idea, do you? You literally have no concept of how much I care about you. It doesn’t matter that I’m not a fighter. If I can protect you, then I will, even at the cost of myself. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you, do you get that? You saved my life in every way possible when I met you on Sixis. There was no other path for me than to give the rest of that life to you. I really don’t  _ want  _ any other path. I want this, just this, and if I die for this, for you, then it would be my honor.”

Ace hissed through his teeth, giving a physical reaction against Deuce’s words and lifting up. He reached a hand to hold Deuce’s face. Ugly tear tracks crossed his cheeks like cracks on a stone monument that Deuce had chiseled there himself.

“If the rest of your life is mine, then don’t waste it on me.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste —”

“How  _ dare  _ you try to take away what’s mine,” Ace hissed, and Deuce blinked in surprise. “You’d really deprive me of more time with you? You’d really be happy to die and leave me without you? If the rest of your life is mine, then  _ live  _ for me. Don’t you dare think of dying as if it would be some great sacrifice that you  _ owe  _ me!” He glared halfheartedly at Deuce for a moment before his expression softened and he sighed, lying his face against Deuce’s chest again. “Please…”

Deuce was exhausted just listening to Ace, but his words cut deep into his heart and took root there. Honestly, when did Ace become so important to him? Deuce couldn’t recall. It had happened so suddenly over the course of weeks, from their first meeting and onward. At first it was simple companionship. Deuce stayed by Ace’s side because Ace made him feel… What was the right word? Whole — complete. Being around Ace was like being constantly bathed in sunlight, in a freedom that Deuce never expected he could hold in his hands, even after running away and hiding his past self behind a mask.

A mask he realized lazily was sitting on a side table beside the bed.

Their time together was a slow roll across the bowing waves. The clock ticked forward and onward, and Deuce’s very being, his existence and his soul, tied tighter and tighter to Ace’s, until one day it hit him suddenly. Like a tsunami crashing over him and sweeping him from the deck of the ship to drown in the ocean — the emotions. Suddenly he woke up and realized that living without Ace would be impossible.

It was frightening. Deuce had gotten used to being alone, because in the past being alone had been far less painful. Being surrounded by people, his friends and family, always left him feeling more abandoned and vulnerable than he ever felt when he was in his own company. Deuce always felt lonely and abysmally empty when he was around others, but he never felt that way when he was with Ace. Rather than feeling that gaping nothingness, Ace’s presence had substance that filled in the gaps, and Deuce felt like he was actually a complete person. He felt  _ real. _

Deuce risked his damaged heart by putting his full and complete trust in Ace, and rather than discarding what was already used and scarred, Ace accepted him entirely. He’d never once broken Deuce’s trust, effortlessly drawing the other man closer and closer into the vortex that was his life until Deuce was stuck in permanent orbit around him. Deuce wanted to die there basking in Ace’s light.

Then again, if he died, he wouldn’t get to enjoy this feeling anymore. This feeling of being genuinely cared for; and what a wonderful feeling it was. Deuce couldn’t get enough of it. He didn’t think he’d want it from anyone else, but from Ace, from this beyond wonderful man — Deuce could live a thousand years for just one more moment with him.

“Ace… are you okay?” Deuce asked the question he probably should’ve asked when he first woke up.

Ace rolled his head so his words wouldn’t be muffled against Deuce’s shirt, nodding. “I… didn’t get hurt bad. My hand got a bit scratched up because of that guy’s Haki, but Marco fixed it up for me.”

“Let me look at it later,” Deuce ordered, and Ace sighed. Deuce could practically see him rolling his eyes.

“If it’ll make you feel better, then okay; but you can’t be pushing yourself. Marco said you were in delicate shape because of your concussion, so you need to be careful and try not to stress out too much. How are you feeling right now?”

Deuce snorted and chuckled at how serious Ace sounded. It was pretty absurd to hear coming from the same guy who chronically ran into things without properly assessing the situation. It seemed the fool was capable of critical thinking after all. It would be nice if he actually used that ability in his day to day life rather than saving it for when his crewmates needed to be nursed back to health.

Then again, that was definitely in character for Ace. To worry more about his friends than himself.

“It hurts,” Deuce confessed with a sigh, raising a hand to touch the bandages, “but that’s normal.”

“Do you want me to get Marco to give you something?”

“I should probably say yes,” Deuce admitted. “In a minute. I’m okay right now.”

“But your head hurts,” Ace mumbled, and Deuce shrugged.

“It’s manageable.”

“Aren’t you the one who’s always telling people to come to you  _ before  _ things get unmanageable?”

“Shut up.”

“What, don’t like your words being used against you?”

“You’re a pain.”

Ace laughed and lifted away from Deuce, rubbing his eyes dry. “I’m gonna go get Marco to give you something for your head.” Deuce shifted under the sheets in a move to sit up, but Ace quickly placed a hand on his chest, the other on the back of his neck, leading him back against the pillow. “No,” he scolded, using the same voice Deuce used on Kotatsu when he was begging for scraps at the dinner table — which, first of all, rude. “Don’t even think about sitting up.”

“I know you’re right but it’s pissing me off.”

“The one time I’m trying to be responsible and you don’t approve,” Ace clicked his tongue as he stood up, placing his hands on his hips and frowning down at Deuce. “That’s not fair.”

Deuce waved a hand idly before folding it over his stomach. “Go on. I won’t move.”

“I won’t be long,” Ace assured, pausing on his way to the door and jogging back over to the side of the bed to pick up Deuce’s mask. “Here,” he carefully placed it back over Deuce’s face, gently brushing aside his bangs so they wouldn’t get stuck beneath it. “You can take it back off when Marco’s done.”

Deuce stared at Ace, rather surprised that he’d remembered the mask. Deuce was in so much pain and so out of it that  _ he  _ had forgotten it, but he was touched by Ace’s consideration and presence of mind to put it back on for Deuce. The mask may have seemed ridiculous to a lot of the crew, but it was something that gave Deuce comfort and security that he needed when facing people. He didn’t really need it with Ace, but he barely knew Marco.

“Thank you,” Deuce said.

Their eyes were locked. Ace’s fingers were lingering against the edges of Deuce’s mask, brushing featherlight against his skin. The look in his grey eyes was intense and thoughtful, and Deuce knew him well enough by now to know he wanted to say something — but he didn’t. He pulled his hands away and turned, starting for the door.

“Be right back.”

Deuce stared at the ceiling, feeling somewhat unfulfilled, like something was supposed to have happened just then. “Okay,” he muttered, listening rather disappointed as the door opened and closed.

He didn’t have to wait long before Marco came into the room, though Ace didn’t come back with him. Deuce propped himself up onto his elbows, wincing and pinching his eyes closed at the wave of dizziness that assaulted him.

“Where’s Ace?” He asked.

The look Marco gave him was almost offensively amused, snorting with a half smile as he stepped closer to the bed. “Ace went a little supernova on that pirate who hit you and ended up scorching the deck pretty severely. He’s talking about it with pops now, apologizing and such.”

“I’m sorry about him,” Deuce sighed, leaning back but not lying down. “He gets a little… enthusiastic.”

“None of us blame him for it. You’re very important to him, so of course he’d lose his cool when you get hurt.” Marco searched through a few of the cabinets in the room, pulling out a few items that Deuce recognized. “Do you want me to explain what I’m giving you?”

“No, I know,” Deuce assured, and Marco nodded, coming up to the bed with a syringe and a small glass bottle.

“Anyway, you lot haven’t been on the ship for very long. The rest of the crew is still learning about Ace, learning how he works. This incident, while unfortunate, helps us get a better read on him.” Marco set aside the needle once he’d finished administering the medicine, pressing a cotton ball against Deuce’s arm and taping it in place. “Knowing what breaks him will make it easier to help him.”

“What do you mean?” Deuce asked.

Marco folded his arms, humming. “Well, if you’re put in any kind of danger, Ace becomes nearly uncontrollable. You’re his biggest weakness, because he cares about you so much.”

Deuce didn’t know why that made him feel so guilty. Maybe because Marco called him a weakness. He really didn’t like that.

“Oh, I don’t mean that as a bad thing,” Marco assured after noticing Deuce’s expression. “Something to be aware of is that a weakness, when viewed in different light, can also be someone’s greatest strength. The bond you have with him is strong. You two just have to wade through the water together until you know what you want to do with it.” He eyed Deuce curiously. “So what do you want to do with it?”

Deuce blinked, shifting his gaze away from the lead doctor to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know… I just want to stay with him.”

“How?”

“Are there different ways?”

“I mean as his doctor, or his first mate, or his friend. Or something more,” Marco tried to explain, but it didn’t clear anything up for Deuce, who shifted his confused, narrowed eyes further to the side in thought. “You don’t get it.”

“It might just be my concussion, but no.”

Marco seemed to debate how to continue before speaking again. “I’ve never seen Ace snap before like he did when fighting that pirate,” he said. “Not even when he fought with pops. When he was fighting to protect you, he was a lot stronger. He fought with more precision and passion. He cared so much more about defeating one rookie pirate than a Yonko. Probably because this fight meant more to him. When he challenged pops, it was for personal glory. When he punched that rookie off the ship — breaking the ship in the process by the way — it was to save you. Ace is more powerful when he’s fighting for the people he loves, and he loves you, Deuce. So much. I don’t even need eyes to see it. I can feel it. Ace’s Haki is powerful and potent. I can  _ feel  _ how much he loves you, and it’s unbelievable. I wish you could feel it too.”

Deuce shut his eyes, clinging to the sheets in tight fists. “I wish he could feel how I felt,” he admitted. “It would be a lot easier.”

“Just tell him,” Marco recommended. “Where Ace is involved, I get the feeling being blunt and straightforward is the only way to get through to him.”

“Just like that?”

“You know him better than me.”

“Suppose you’re right,” Deuce murmured, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah… you’re right.” He draped his arm across his eyes. “It would be okay, right? I already want to stay with him. He’s already my best friend. Being more than that would just be the natural evolution of our relationship, wouldn’t it?” He covered his eyes with both his hands, pressing his lips tightly together. “Never mind, that sounds really stupid.”

“Deuce.”

“Please don’t tell him I said that.”

Deuce heard footsteps as Marco made his way back towards the door. “Well, I don’t have to.”

Deuce’s eyes snapped open and he lifted his hands away from eyes, staring at his palms in shock as his blood ran cold and his face burned hot.

“Remember to be careful with his head,” Marco said, and the door shut.

Deuce hadn’t heard Ace reenter the room since he’d been talking, which meant that Ace had heard him talking; heard the brutally humiliating words. So Deuce did the only thing he could think of and dragged the sheets up over his head to hide beneath them.

“Deuce —”

“Please don’t look at me,” Deuce begged in a weak voice. “I have a really bad concussion.”

“So you didn’t mean it?”

“No! I mean yes! Wait, that’s not what I — I did! Fuck.” Deuce covered his eyes with his hands again. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?” Ace asked, stepping closer.

Deuce breathed through his anxiety, but the more he tried to calm down to speak, the more frantic and out of control he felt. This really was not the best time to have this conversation, not when his head was this hurt, but Deuce didn’t want Ace to leave.

“Can I ask you something selfish?” Deuce’s voice shook.

“Yeah,” Ace urged softly.

“Can you lie down with me?”

Ace didn’t hesitate as he sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to take Deuce’s hands, pulling them away from his face before lifting the mask away and setting it aside. “Yeah,” he said. “Can I ask something selfish too?”

Deuce frowned, but bobbed his head in a nod. “Okay.”

Ace held Deuce’s face in one hand, his thumb sitting just at the edge of his lips. “Can I kiss you?” Deuce’s eyes snapped wider. Ace looked far too composed considering what he’d just asked, but it wasn’t like Deuce wanted to say no. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

“Why me?” Deuce asked.

Ace laughed. “Probably for the same reason you chose me,” he admitted, and suddenly all anxiety bled from Deuce’s tense body.

He reached up to hold Ace’s face gently in his hand, tracing the freckles with his thumb.

“Do they really look like stars?” Ace asked before Deuce could answer the first question.

“Yeah,” Deuce answered, pressing palm against cheek and leading Ace down. “And… yeah… to the other thing too.”

“What other thing?”

“The first thing you asked. The selfish thing.”

Ace was staring into Deuce’s eyes as their faces crested closer, looking distant and lost in the moment. “Did I ask something else?”

“Yeah,” Deuce confirmed, “cuz you’re selfish.”

“I am?”

“Yeah.”

Deuce’s eyes slid shut as his lips brushed Ace’s, his hand moving to cradle the back of his neck as Ace held Deuce’s chin in his fingers. It wasn’t anything passionate or dramatic. It was soft, warm, a flutter of lips against lips that pressed firmly together to make something substantial and real. Warmth flowed through Deuce — something comforting and peaceful. Not even his head was hurting now.

Ace broke the kiss first, but he was quick to press a second kiss onto Deuce’s forehead on top of the bandages. It was almost more intimate than their first kiss.

“Can you lie down with me now?” Deuce whispered, and Ace nodded.

He pulled himself fully onto the bed and laid down beside Deuce, who rolled slowly onto his right side and eased himself closer to Ace.

“Thanks,” he said. “You’re warm, so… and my head hurts.”

Ace stroked small circles into the back of Deuce’s neck. “Try to get some sleep.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Deuce hummed, eyes already closed. “Don’t leave before I wake up. I think we have a few things we need to talk about.”

Ace snorted. “Yeah, we definitely do.”


End file.
